


When It's All Said And Done

by HumorousOddity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, SAD OKAY, Unhappy Ending, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:16:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6046165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumorousOddity/pseuds/HumorousOddity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thought he was all alone after the zombie outbreak, but god forbid they actually kill off their heroic Scotty-boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It's All Said And Done

The funny thing about the end of the world is… You never realize it’s going to happen until it does. When the monsters in comic books become real and a deadly virus is spread throughout the human race. Zombies were real. Werewolves were real. Everything Stiles Stilinski had ever known to be fake, the monsters under your bed and in your closet, was real.

Stiles was able to handle the fact that his best friend had become a werewolf at the beginning of their high school year, but zombies? Although, considering all of the supernatural beings that they had run into during their four years of high school, Stiles really shouldn’t be as surprised as he was. But the one thing that surprised him the most was that, out of everything that could have destroyed the world, it was zombies. He supposed he should have gotten more into The Walking Dead before zombies took over the world, but it was a little late for that.

When the first wave hit, it hit the large cities and states. When the second wave hit, there had been a small stream of zombies that came into their small town of Beacon Hills. They were effectively taken care of without so much as a casualty. But when the third wave it, everything went down the drain. He was separated from his friends, his family, everyone he loved. He watched Melissa McCall, his best friend Scott’s mother, get torn apart with his very own eyes. He watched the woman he had thought of as a mother get ripped apart by those whom he used to call neighbors before they had gotten infected, before they had gotten bitten.

Now he was all alone. He couldn’t remember how many days had passed, how many weeks, how many months had gone by without any human contact. Everyone was either close to death or already dead, and Stiles felt his sanity slowly slipping through his fingers. How was he going to survive? He couldn’t recall having anything to live for. He wasn’t Scott, the heroic trooper. He wasn’t Lydia, the smart girl who could do anything she set her mind to. He wasn’t Allison, the one trained to hunt the things that go bump in the night. He was Just Stiles, the kid with a bat and an ADHD problem. How could he survive?

Then one day everything changed. He found himself in this desolate town, only a few zombies populating the area, and he took care of them with his trusty bat. Something caught his eye almost immediately while he was darting from house to house in search of canned food or even water that he could drink; a light. There was a light coming from one of the upper rooms in a house across the street from where he had been located, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to cheer loudly and bounce his way over to that house. But, in the window, he could see a black figure shuffling from side to side. Which either meant a person (most were unfriendly and have turned against other humans as resources began becoming scarce) or a zombie, and Stiles wasn’t keen on either options.

“Come on, Stilinski. It’s working electricity… When are you going to see that again?” He mumbled to himself, pacing from side to side as he debated going into the house. “You could even get a shower. When was the last time you had that?”

So Stiles took a single moments to debate a second longer before he darted across the street and sneaking into the backyard of the house with the blessed electricity. He had pressed himself against the side of the back wall, fingers poised to opened the door when he heard a rustling in the yard. He was immediately tense, bat raised as he prepared himself for whatever was coming.

But he could have never been prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Scott McCall. Alive and well, a little dirty (but weren’t they all?), and breathing.

“Sc-Scott?” He stuttered, unable to believe his eyes. Perhaps Stiles had actually gone insane. It would make sense. He had been alone for an extremely long time. Even the best of people would have lost their mind if they had been put in a zombie apocalypse.

The rugged-looking physique seemed to have a spark of recognition in his eyes before he lowered his weapon--an axe, shoulders sagging in a mixture of relief and disbelief prior to striding forward and taking the thinner form into his arms, breathless as he spoke. “Stiles Stilinski, I thought you were dead.”

“We’ve been through so much together,” Stiles spoke light-heartedly despite his trembling fingers fisting in Scott’s shirt. “Do you think a few thousand of measly zombies could kill me?”

“Of course they haven’t.” Scott grinned, pulling back just enough to look at Stiles’ dirty visage, both of them looking at each other as if they had been blind and are now seeing the sun for the very first time. “Nothing could kill yo--” Snap.

The distinct sound of a tree branch breaking broke both of them out of their reverie and they immediately became alert, their eyes roaming over the area in search of any sign of life--or death. When nothing became of the noise they had previously heard, Stiles lightly nudged Scott’s ribs with his elbow and nodded his head towards the house.

Without a word, both boys headed towards the house and slowly, very slowly, the entered the living space. It turns out the back door had been connected to the kitchen, and that seemed to be pretty good. While Stiles was busy stuffing their book bags with the canned good he found in the cabinets, Scott went around and used his werewolf senses to sniff out the dead. There were two upstairs and one in the living room--although Stiles didn’t need werewolf senses to know that one. He could hear the noises of the dead clearly from his position in the kitchen.

Scott easily took care of the one in the living room and popped back into the kitchen just long enough to grab two pots before he began banging them together to attract the two zombies that were upstairs, but only one single zombie seemed to be able to find their way downstairs. He was able to kill off that one zombie very easily and waited until Stiles had finished packing up all the snacks and canned goods he could find before they both, as a team, moved up the stairs, armed and ready for anything.

Stiles could hear soft thuds coming from a door with a sight “No Boys Allowed!!” He almost found it funny when he said almost immediately, “Looks like we’re about to the break the rules.”

It did get a low chuckle from Scott, so he supposed his joke was worth it in the end.

When Scott walked forward, axe raised up and ready to hit, and flung open the door, they had been expecting a zombie to tumble forward and try to attack, but instead they found a tree lightly tapping against the window, the dark sky able to be seen past the branches.

“How about we just secure the house and stay here for a day or so?” Stiles requested after they had checked the rest of the rooms and found no trace of a third zombie (despite Scott’s nose having picked up three of them).

“That sounds good to me,” Scott mumbled, his mind still obviously on the missing zombie. Stiles nudged him lightly and they wordlessly began boarding up the windows and barricading the doors so no zombie could get in. Neither one of them really wanted to die, especially not after they found each other after who-knows-how-long.

When they relaxed on the carpet in the living room, leaning back against the sofa, they just met each other’s eyes for a long moment before laughter, soft but genuine, seemed to come from both of the boys. Scott had his best friend; Stiles had his best friend. It was as if a piece that had been missing in their ruthless lives had come back, bringing color back to their gray world and giving them some semblance of hope that perhaps everything would be okay.

Too bad they were terribly, terribly wrong.

Late in the night, when both of them had ended up falling asleep together after reliving the time Scott used to have asthma before he had gotten bitten, and a time Stiles had been hopelessly in love with Lydia while he had a buzz cut, a few somethings that were not at all human had found a way to enter the house.

The way Stiles woke up was with a zombie atop of him, teeth the only thing he could see and feeling unkept nails trying to tear through his dirty shirt. His hands came up to shove at the dead body on him, his amber eyes looking to see if his best friend was okay. He was. He was alive and struggling with his own zombie. This definitely didn’t look good for either of them.

Scott had killed his zombie before Stiles could even get his own off of himself, and Scott ripped the zombie off of Stiles, but before Stiles could even think to grab his weapon or kill the zombie, another had somehow made its way back onto him.

There was a lot of shouting and slick noises of a blade slicing through old, worn and squishy flesh, and a sharp pain going up Stiles’ arm before everything went black.

Stiles wasn’t sure how long it had been before he finally woke up, and when he did make a noise to show that yes, he was alive, Scott was in front of him and whimpering rather pitifully. From the way Scott seemed to be breathing, it was almost as if the young male was having an asthma attack, but he knew it was impossible because Scott no longer had asthma.

Lifting a hand to ruffle Scott’s curls, Stiles slowly pushed himself up in a sitting position before calmly watching his best friend cling to him and sob. “You didn’t have a heart beat for a while,” came Scott’s muffled voice from where he had curled himself against Stiles’ side. “I thought you were dead.”

“Not going to lie, Scotty, but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be dead. Last I remember, there was a zombie on me. And that’s also when I not-so-casually passed out, so I think there’s a problem here.”

Then Stiles became alerted to the throb in his arm, and he peeled away the fabric of his shirt to reveal a rather nasty looking bite mark. This is where all the calm Stiles had forced himself to have melted away, the idea that he was going to die finally catching up with him. “Hey, Scotty-boy, don’t forget I want Fall Out Boy to play at my funeral. And I want my ashes to be spread via cannon.”

“Don’t. Don’t say something like that.” Scott sobbed, fingers fisted in Stiles’ shirt much like the way Stiles had done to Scott during their reunion. “I just got you back. I won’t lose you. I won’t!”

“There’s no cure, Scott. Don’t do this. Please. Don’t make it harder than it has to be,” Stiles gently rubbed Scott’s back in hopes to console him, tears slowly beginning to form in his eyes and he had to look up and attempt to rapidly blink them away so Scott wouldn’t notice.

“I’ll do something! I can’t lose you!” Scott cried out, lifting his head to look upon Stiles’ boyish visage, shaky fingers coming up to cup his friend’s cheeks. “Please. I’ve lost everyone but you.”

Stiles shook his head, placing his hands over Scott’s own as he met the male’s gaze, his eyes filled with unending sadness. “Scott,” he spoke softly, “don’t. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing to do. Either we wait until I turn to kill me or we can kill me now.”

Scott pulled away from Stiles and scrubbed at his wet eyes before turning his gaze back to Stiles, fire ignited in the depths of his orbs. “No. You won’t die. We can figure it out! You don’t have to die just because you’re bitten!”

“We both know that’s exactly what that means. Stop acting like this. We both know I’m not the hero of this story. Scott McCall had always been the hero, so why should that change now? We both know the hero doesn’t die in situations like this. It’s always the sidekick. I’m the Robin to your Batman, so let’s stop this now, okay? No need to cause a lot of heartache any longer.”

Scott couldn’t seem to believe what Stiles was saying, the disbelief written quite obviously on his features. “You can’t mean that. There’s no way. I don’t want to be a hero if it means I lose you!”

“It’s too late, Scotty. The best you can do is live the best you can without me.” Stiles murmured. “You were doing it well for a while, so it shouldn’t change once I’m gone. Plus you have all of this food you can eat!”

“Why do you keep trying to joke this off?! You’re bitten!” Scott grabbed Stiles’ shoulder and shook, as if trying to shake some sense into his best friend. “You could die and you’re thinking about me! Stop!”

“What else is there to think about? I already knew I was going to die at some point, so why shouldn’t it be now? I knew that I was going to die as soon as I was separated from everyone. I already knew this, so why are you acting like you didn’t? I’m human. I’m not supposed to survive something like this.”

“Because I--I never wanted you to die… I didn’t want you to die. It’s not fair. I just got you back. We just got back together… How am I supposed to survive when you’re gone?” Scott questioned, looking imploringly up at Stiles as he took his friend’s hand.

“You’re going to do it the way you have been doing it all long. You survived without me for this long, I’m sure you can do it for the rest of your life.” Stiles may have been pushing it and acting insensitive to Scott’s feelings, but Stiles needed to make sure before he died that Scott would be able to handle himself with Stiles permanently out of his life. No matter how strong their bond was, there was no way Stiles’ corpse was going to differentiate friend from food.

Pain slowly started coursing through Stiles’ lithe body and he began shooting Scott panicked glances. “Scott, you need to go. You need to go now. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good. So if you decide you aren’t going to be the one to off me, you need to leave. I don’t want you seeing this. I don’t want me being a zombie to be the last thing you remember about me.”

“Stiles, you know I can’t leave you. Let’s just--” Scott began, but Stiles immediately cut him off. It was clear the infection was taking over Stiles, from the way his skin seemed to be rotting right in front of Scott’s eyes. 

“Scott!” Stiles spoke firmly, fingers gripping Scott’s arm weakly. “Then you’re going to have to kill me.”

Scott shook his head, hoping to bargain with Stiles, but they both knew that Stiles was the one that had always been and always be way more stubborn than Scott ever could. So he caved in to Stiles, who was pleadingly looking at Scott as his lips moved, words that didn’t seem to reach Scott’s ears until ‘thank you’ could be made out past the white noise in Scott’s ears.

Stiles was thanking him. For agreeing to kill him. This wasn’t the life Scott wanted for either of them. But this was the life they got. And Scott had to deal with it. If things had been different, if the virus hadn’t taken over the world, perhaps the both of them could have remained happy and almost carefree together. 

In their last moments, Stiles and Scott knew that after this, it would alter Scott in a way that the both of them wasn’t sure he could return from. It was going to change Scott and his heroic behavior. It would most likely corrupt him from the inside out. But Scott didn’t want Stiles to become a zombie, and Stiles didn’t want to become one either. So this was their solution.

“It’s okay, Scotty. I want you to do this. We both know I can’t become like… them.” Stiles whispered, his fingers gingerly curling against the fabric of Scott’s ratty shirt, and all Scott could do past his tears was nod, his voice gone. Sniffling softly, Stiles leaned forward to rest his forehead against Scott’s own, exhaling shakily. “It’s really okay, Scotty. Everything is going to be fine after you do this. You know I love you, right? You’ve been my best friend since we were three. I wouldn’t want anyone but you doing this.”

Scott nodded, muttering a hoarse, “You know I love you too, Stiles,” before he’s leaning forward on an impulse and pressing his lips to Stiles’ own, a hand coming up to rest against his cheek while the other pressed against Stiles’ throat. He allowed himself one last lingering kiss before his nails elongated into claws and he tore through Stiles’ throat as quickly as one might rip of a band-aid.

Holding his slack best friend’s body in his arms, he knew that whatever carefully constructed heroism he had had now shattered into a million pieces when his best friend died. He no longer cared about anything, especially not about himself. But Stiles wouldn’t want him giving up.

He stayed with Stiles for a few more hours, just until it became dusk. Then he ripped the front door off of its hinges and stared out at the few scattered bodies of the zombies that were sluggishly moving around without any knowledge that he was there, and he realized:

When it’s all said and done, he was still utterly and completely alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story I did for my English class and I liked it, so here I am! Posting it!


End file.
